


Out of the Cold

by IrishWitch58



Series: Out of the Cold [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9328583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: Kent thinks he's just stirring up trouble. Bitty gets an unexpected text. There is use of kitchen twine for a rescue. And Bitty has cold feet, literally.





	

The game had been a good one. Jack Zimmermann was proud of how he had played and proud of his team. One goal and two assists was a fine end to a hard road trip. The 3-2 win was an even better one. He skated off the ice and headed for the locker room, teammates congratulating him and each other. The fans were already pouring out of the arena. He couldn't wait to be done and off as well. He had long term plans for this January long weekend. He'd promised Eric Bittle, his boyfriend since graduation, that they would have this weekend to spend together. Samwell University had no classes on Monday and Jack had no games until the home stand began on Tuesday night. Jack had a ticket on a flight back to Providence and a rental car waiting at Green Airport. He was glad he had reserved a four wheel drive. The weather was supposed to be doubtful, a winter storm off the coast promising snow.  
He grabbed his phone from his locker and sent Eric a quick text on the game score. He ditched his uniform and gear and packed it all up to go back with the team. He had a duffle already packed for the weekend. Showered and changed, he put a few last minute items away and turned to find a very unexpected visitor. Jack waved at the last of his teammates heading out to the hotel and stared at Kent Parson. “Come on, Jack. Not gonna say hi to an old buddy?”  
“Hi,” Jack responded coolly. Parson's actions had long since soured their relationship. Jack wondered what the man was doing here at all.  
“Thought we might go out on the town, catch up a bit.” Parson was smiling but Jack wasn't buying whatever he was selling.  
“Sorry, not interested. Got plans for the weekend.”  
“Aw, come on Jack. We used to be tight.”  
“Key phrase, 'used to be'. I've got a flight to catch.” Jack checked his pockets, making sure he had his wallet and ticket.  
“Where you off to in such a hurry?” Parson was not letting it go.  
“Back to Providence. I'm spending the weekend at Samwell, since you're so eager to know.”  
Kent's face tightened and his voice had an edge. “Guess I know what the attraction is there. Oh well, have a good flight.” He fiddled with his phone a moment. “Guess I'll just scare up some other company.” He tapped the screen and looked disappointed. “Damn, it's dead. Hey man, can I borrow your phone real quick?”  
Jack was happy to do so if it meant the conversation would be over. He handed over his phone and turned around to make absolutely sure he had packed everything. He didn't see Kent scan the phone's message screen or his scowl when he saw the name Bitty with a cute picture tagged to the name. The message stream told him what he suspected. Jack was off to see his little baker boyfriend who, by the tone of the messages, was pathetically eager for this weekend. Seized by a sudden nasty impulse, Kent typed quickly. 'Can't make it. Sorry. Gonna paint the town with Kent.' He sent it then erased it and turned the ringer volume off, handing the phone back with casual thanks. “See ya around Jack.” The move was petty and mean but then Kent had never pretended to be a nice guy.  
Jack tucked the phone away without looking at it and hurried out to meet the Uber he had arranged earlier. He didn't check the phone again, just shutting it off at the gate before boarding. 

Eric Richard Bittle was a very happy young man, both generally and currently, anticipating Jack's arrival for the weekend. He'd be able to stay until Monday night. He'd have to drive back then since he had early practice Tuesday morning and a home game Tuesday night. Still, they would have all of Saturday, Sunday and most of Monday. Music in his ears, he danced around the kitchen. He had no less than three dozen cookies and two pies already done and one more in the oven. The kitchen was the warmest room in the Haus, since he had the oven on most of the day.  
The tone for his messaging broke through and he wondered who it could be. He wasn't expecting to hear from Jack again until he had reached Green Airport. He was hoping the snow didn't make it too difficult for Jack to make the drive but it looked okay for now. He finished cleaning the pan in the sink and rinsed and dried his hands. He opened his messaging and read the last text from Jack three times. He sank down on one of the kitchen chairs and closed his eyes. Jack wasn't coming. Jack was spending the weekend he had promised to Eric for months with Kent Parson. He felt like he was smothering. Standing, he put the phone in his pocket and looked around when the oven timer buzzed. He moved dazedly, removing the pie from the oven, setting it on the counter to cool and turning off the oven. He removed his apron and hung it up. He left the kitchen, climbing the stairs slowly, footsteps dragging. His room seemed too confined. He eyed the freshly made bed and the small gift he'd wrapped yesterday, hockey themed fridge magnets for Jack's Providence apartment. He sank down on his desk chair and stared at the framed photo of Jack and himself in Madison over the summer, smiling at the camera.  
It was over. Jack had made a choice and it seemed the choice wasn't Bitty. He choked off a sob and stood abruptly. He was not going to stay in his room and cry. He needed to do something. His skates were lined up in front of the closet, two pairs of hockey blades and one set of figure skates. Seized by an impulse to use exercise to tire himself out and keep himself from thinking, he grabbed the figure skates. He pulled on a coat, his Samwell scarf and his boots. He looped the skates over his shoulder by the laces and never noticed his phone hitting the rug as he closed the door. He waved distractedly at Ransom in the den as he passed on the way to the front door.  
The snow was falling steadily and he kept a brisk pace as he headed for Faber. The building manager was getting ready to close up. “Please, Mr Swigert,” Bittle asked, “can I just stay a bit? Lock everything else up and I'll get the lights and lock the back door when I leave.”  
“All right,” Swigert agreed. “Anything I can do? You look a little rough.”  
“No thanks. I just thought a little exercise might chase the blues a bit.”  
“Okay then.” Swigert gestured. “You know where the switches are?”  
“Main console, over at the north end,” Eric confirmed.  
“Just don't stay too long. I heard this storm is gonna get wicked.” Swigert went on his way, checking the rest of the doors and leaving Bittle with a sheet of ice all to himself.  
Eric laced up his skates with quick impatient movements, stepping out onto the ice and gliding in loops and figure eights. His muscles warming, he pushed harder, taking a few elementary jumps as he picked up speed. He fell into the rhythm and let it carry him. He lost track of the time and pushed his body until his muscles sang and then screamed with overuse. He finally halted, drooping at center ice, heaving in breaths with tears streaming down his face.  
How had he ever thought this thing with Jack would last? They were so far apart in so many ways. It was no wonder Jack had opted for Kent Parson. They had history together. Eric straightened up. Well, he managed for a good long time loving Jack from afar before that June graduation afternoon. He'd survive this as well. It just hurt worse. Never having something your heart wanted was hard. Having it briefly and then seeing it snatched away was so much more painful. He circled slowly back to the boards and stepped through the gate. He unlaced his skates and shifted uncomfortably, soaked with perspiration. He pulled his coat on and looped the skates over his scarf which he had pulled closely around his neck. He hit the switches for the overhead lights, glancing at the clock. He'd been here two hours. He ruthlessly squashed a thought of where Jack might be now and headed for the back door, the low emergency lighting guiding him. He pushed the bar and then reached around the door to turn the lock. He slammed it closed and tugged hard to verify the lock was engaged.  
Eric stared out at a changed landscape. The snow was accumulating quickly. The wind was raging and snow pelted him viciously on the exposed skin of his face. He wrapped the scarf tighter, minimizing the space between the scarf and the bottom of his hat. He stepped down and found snow already spilling into his boots. He was thoroughly chilled in seconds. He gritted his teeth and headed off toward the Haus, into the teeth of the storm. He found the going very hard. He had to pull his knees up high to free them from the snow on every step. After several minutes, his already tired leg muscles were burning with fatigue. He struggled forward and abruptly realized he had no idea where the Haus was now and he couldn't see Faber either. How had he managed to get so lost so quickly? He thought about just retracing his steps but couldn't see them as they had been quickly obscured by new snow.  
He knew he had to keep moving but it was so cold. He trudged on a bit longer and his foot touched something harder than the snow. The hunched shape was a bench in one of the quad areas but he had no idea which one. He was so very tired. Maybe he could rest here for a bit. He began to feel as if he wasn't quite as cold anymore. He shoved some of the snow off the bench and sat down. Maybe he could call someone to help him. His numb fingers fumbled through his pockets but found no phone. That was disappointing. He'd just close his eyes for a minute and look again when he felt better. He could get up and start walking again after a rest. It wasn't cold at all anymore. 

The flight actually got to Providence in good time but, when Jack saw the snowfall, he made it to his rental as quickly as possible. He's seen storms like this and the radio warnings were ominous. He threw the heavy vehicle into gear and moved out carefully. The main roads had been plowed but the plows were gradually losing the battle as the storm intensified. He was a careful and confident driver but this was a real challenge. He was very glad to pull up in front of the Haus. He grabbed his duffle and trudged up the steps. The door was not locked and he pushed through, calling out “Hello,” as he shook the snow off his boots.  
Chowder poked his head around the kitchen door, face comically surprised. “Jack, where'd you come from?”  
“Montreal, originally,” Jack joked back. “Looks like Canada out there now.” He was expecting Eric to come running any minute but there was no sign of him. “Bitty didn't tell you I was coming?”  
“Nah. Might have guessed though. He made that special apple pie he does.” Chowder hung his head. “There might be a slice missing.”  
Jack was already moving up the stairs. Bittle's room was empty but Jack found the phone on the rug. He dropped his duffle and hurried back downstairs. “Any ideas where he is? His room's empty but he left his phone.”  
“Sorry, haven't seen him. Maybe ask Ransom. He's been parked in front of the TV. Storm is really effing things up and Ransom's a Weather Channel addict. Jack found Ransom as described, mesmerized by the storm coverage.  
“Seen Bitty?” Jack asked.  
Ransom looked around and then back at the screen. “Saw him a while ago, heading out. He had skates with him.”  
“How long?” Jack felt rising dread.  
“Not sure. Couple hours maybe.”  
“A couple of hours?!” Jack shouted. “Have you looked outside for real? It's dangerous out there.” Swinging around he refastened his coat and headed for the kitchen. “Chowder. Get Ransom off his butt. We need to find Bitty, quick!” The urgency must have transmitted to them. They were up quickly, grabbing boots and coats and pulling a large flashlight out of the hall closet.  
Alarmed at the fuss, Lardo appeared at the top of the stairs. “What's going on?”  
“Bitty's missing and we're going to find him. Put a kettle on and call Swigert. Ask if he saw him. Then call the campus police.” While he was talking, Jack made sure his phone was on and was rummaging through the kitchen drawers, finally unearthing the cotton twine. It was strong and lightweight and there was a huge lot of it. He ran out to the porch and tied the loose end to one of the posts. Satisfied it was secure he directed Ransom and Chowder to either side of him and walked into the storm, paying the cord out behind him.  
The three slogged, spread out and keeping about five feet between them. Any further and they risked someone else getting lost. They headed away from the house, sweeping side to side, and moving generally in the direction of the rink.  
Jack strode on determinedly, snow almost blinding him. He squinted and scanned back and forth, hoping for some sign of Bitty. His phone earpiece chimed. Answering, he heard Lardo's voice. “No luck with the campus cops. There's a bad accident over at the chem building. A truck crashed into the lobby and they have a lot of injuries. Swigert says he left Bittle at Faber when he closed up.” Jack absorbed this without comment other than a quick thanks. Blinking his eyes he abruptly caught a flash of color in the stark white that prevailed everywhere. There was something bright red and fluttering with the wind. He shouted as loudly as he could for the other two to follow.  
Still holding tightly to the twine ball, Jack advanced with the other two at his back. There was an almost snow covered figure on a bench, the red of a Samwell scarf jerking irregularly in the gusts of icy wind. Tossing the twine to Ransom, Jack ripped one glove off, digging in under the scarf and holding his breath. His fingers shook as he finally felt a slow pulse. He hoisted the too still body up over his shoulder and shouted to Ransom to lead them back, winding up the twine as they went. Chowder followed and they trudged back the way they had come.  
Jack was never so happy to see the shabby porch as he was at the end of that walk. Lardo opened the door and stepped back as the three snow crusted figures hurried in, the silent bundled figure of Bitty hanging in a fireman's carry over Jack's shoulder.  
“What about an ambulance?” Jack huffed out.  
“I'll call again but I think we're on our own.” She immediately hauled out her phone as Jack never paused, moving up the stairs. The bedroom door was still open. He laid Bittle on the floor and methodically and quickly stripped him of his coat and boots and then of every other stitch he had on. Jack frowned at the pallor of the chilled skin and yanked back the blankets and deposited Eric in the bed.  
Lardo elbowed Ransom and Chowder out of the way. “No ambulance, Jack. The emergency service operator said stay put.” She held out a heating pad which Jack waved away.  
“Not yet. Passive warming is safer. Too fast and too much chilled blood can get back to the heart. Leave it here for later and go make some tea with lots of sugar and bring a spoon with it.”  
As Lardo went on her errand, and while Ransom and Chowder still hovered uncertainly in the doorway, Jack stripped down to his briefs and kicked the entire pile of clothing to the corner. He lifted the blankets and slid in next to Bitty. He turned to face him, as though watching would help. Silly, but he was not gonna take his eyes off Eric right now.  
Lardo returned with the tea in a thermos and placed it on the bedside table. “I tried again. Still no ambulance but they put me through to the ER. According to them, you're doing the right thing. Warm him up gradually and get hot liquids into him when he's awake enough to swallow.”  
“He's never still, Lardo. And now he's not moving. What the hell was he doing out there? I can't believe he had a sudden wild urge to practice his double axel in a blizzard.” He spoke quietly, his gaze still fixed on Bittle's face.  
“No idea there. But ask him yourself when he wakes up. Ask him gently,” she emphasized. “I've got a space heater. I'll get that and put it in here.” She left, chasing Ransom and Chowder out ahead of her.  
The bed was warming nicely and Jack wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there. He leaned in closer, placing two fingers over the pulse point and telling himself it was just a little stronger and faster. He reached further and curved his fingers around the back of the slender neck and touched his forehead to Eric's and breathed quietly. He dimly heard Lardo return and a series of soft sounds as she presumably set up the space heater. She left without speaking. Jack concentrated on his own breathing and watching the almost imperceptible rise and fall of Bitty's, treasuring each small puff of air.  
Suddenly Jack was certain he felt a different movement. “Bittle?” He held very still and watched as Bitty's eyes moved restlessly under closed lids and he felt a fine tremor under the hand he had kept on his neck. Jack pulled a little, getting Eric closer to his chest. He was beginning to shiver and, as he did, the muscles generated heat to accelerate warming. There was a soft breath of sound, a choked whimper, and Bittle burrowed closer, seeking the warmth of Jack's body. Jack was happy to oblige, wrapping both arms around him. He rubbed gently at his back and was appalled at the pained noises as the returning sensation burned through Eric's skin. He held on harder as the tremors escalated and murmured soothing nonsense in English and Quebecois. He eventually pulled the shivering body almost entirely under him to ease the shaking.  
When the shivering finally subsided, Jack nudged at Eric and coaxed him to bring his head up. He kissed him gently. “Hey, open your eyes and say hello.”  
Soft brown eyes opened and Eric whispered, “Hi Jack. MMMhhhm, you are so warm.”  
He seemed inclined to sleep again but Jack still wanted him to warm up more. “Sit up, sweetheart. You need to drink something.” Coaxing and prodding, he eventually got Bittle sitting against the headboard, wrapped in blankets and blinking, obviously confused. Jack poured some still hot tea into the cup attached to the thermos and began spooning it carefully into Eric's mouth.  
“It's too sweet,” Eric complained, although he accepted another spoonful anyway.  
“I had Lardo make it that way. You need warm fluid and the sugar is for energy.” Jack resolutely pushed the entire cup, one spoonful at a time, into Eric's mouth. “Better now?” he asked as he put the cup down.  
“I think so,” Eric admitted.  
“Can we talk about this now?” Jack needed to know what had happened. But Bittle's face blanked in a way that usually meant his mind was going a mile a minute chewing on something unpleasant but determined to seem outwardly fine.  
“I just decided I needed to get out for some air and the rink seemed like a good idea.”  
“In a blizzard?” Jack deliberately kept his voice pitched low and calm.  
“It wasn't so bad when I went over,” he protested and tried to burrow deeper into the blankets again. “I went right after your last text. I couldn't think of anything else to do since you weren't coming. I just don't know who called you or why you bothered to come. Was it Lardo?”  
Jack was completely lost. “What do you mean? I was coming up like we planned.” He shook his head. “I got here and no one knew where you were. I was terrified when I thought of you out there alone.”  
“But what about your other plans? You texted and said you were staying to spend time with Kent.” Bittle frowned and shook his head. “I'd show you but I couldn't find my phone before.”  
Jack's stomach roiled. He slid out of the bed and over to the clothes he had left piled haphazardly in the corner. He dragged his phone out of the inside pocket and produced Bittle's from where he had tucked it earlier. He brought both back with him and showed his to Bittle first. The last text he had sent to him was the one about the game score. There was nothing after that. He was appalled when he saw the message screen he opened on the other phone. A message, clearly from his phone, telling Bitty that he was canceling their weekend.  
“Fucking Kent,” he muttered succinctly. “He came by the locker room and asked me to go with him. I said no. Then he asked to borrow my phone to message someone else. He must have erased it after it was sent.”  
“Why would he do something so cruel? Jack,I believed it.”  
“Probably an impulse. He felt hurt because I told him I wasn't interested and he did that to get back at both of us. I'm betting he figured we'd waste time arguing about it. I doubt he thought you might get physically hurt.” While they were talking, Jack inched the two of them as close as he could manage. “Bitty, your feet are still cold.” Jack trapped the offending appendages between his own feet and cuddled the rest of Bitty as close as he could.  
“So what are you gonna do?” Eric questioned softly.  
“About Kent? Let him... Nah better idea.” Jack grabbed his phone again and held it out for a selfie. “Smile Bitty.” He clicked and then checked the resultant picture. The frame showed a now blushing and tousled Bitty cuddled into his lover's arms, Jack with a rare perfect smile. He nodded approval and clicked through his contacts and typed a message.  
“Jack, you're not...”  
“Already done.” Jack closed the screen and dropped the phone on the table.  
Bitty tried to sit up, horrified. “Jack! What if he shows that to someone? We agreed you didn't want to be out yet.”  
“Don't worry. He's not going to show that around. He'll be too embarrassed his scheme backfired. And if he does, well it was bound to happen eventually.”  
Bitty settled back down but was still upset. “I just don't want your reputation to suffer,” he protested.  
“I'd be more worried about the chirping you're going to get. Ransom and Chowder helped me bring you back. They stood right there in the doorway and watched me go all caveman on you, pulling your clothes off and tossing you into bed. I have a feeling this may become a Haus legend.” Bittle groaned and Jack added one more thing. “Oh yeah, I think Chowder ate your pie.” And he laughed as Eric put the pillow over his head and vowed to stay there for the rest of the semester.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I am supposed to be working on my two stucky stories. I have an excuse. I was kidnapped by aliens. Aliens wearing hockey skates. And they controlled my mind so I would write Check, Please fanfic. Anyway, I made this so I'll just leave this here and scuttle back to hurting my other characters.


End file.
